The Target
by floopdeedoopdee
Summary: When Jay is brutally beaten under odd circumstances, it's up to the rest of the team to find out who hurt their team member and why, before he can strike again.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

All mistakes are my own.

I do not own anything in regards to Chicago PD, except my love for the show and the characters.

PART 1

 **Jay's POV**

I was dead on my feet. A case that should have been simple, turned into a three day fiasco. We were all functioning on minimal sleep, copious amounts of coffee and short fuses. If we wouldn't have closed the case today someone would have drawn blood. As it was, Platt had to stomp up the steps 3 times, telling us to take the volume down a notch and keep the swearing to a minimum. When she finally huffed up the stairs the last time, she slammed a 5 gallon bucket on Antonio's desk informing us that she was now charging $2 for bitch, ass, shit, $5 for any anatomy parts or swear word number #1 - "fuck" and "dammit" would be free unless preceded by "God", then it cost $10. Not because she was particularly religious, but because Antonio usually does the majority of his swearing in Spanish. "Goddammit" was the only way she was going to get any money out of him since he started almost every sentence with those two words in english. By the time I went home I was down $80.

But I digress, yes, dead on my feet. I opened my door and lose my shoes, jacket, keys and wallet in a trail from front door to bedroom. My gun and badge went on my nightstand and the rest of me went in the bed. I woke up 2 hours later with a very angry bladder. Since I was up, I stripped off my clothes, threw on a pair of basketball shorts and bellyflopped back into bed.

I woke up again sometime later, not sure why I was awake. When I realized I was just too tired and groggy to figure out why I was awake my head is suddenly shoved into the pillow while a knee was being jammed into my back forcing me to cry out in pain. Other hands grabbed my kicking legs while someone else held down my arms. I couldn't move and I couldn't breath. I struggled until someone jammed a syringe into my neck. As I slipped off into oblivion, not capable of struggle, they started to release me and I could finally suck in a gasping breath. It was then I became vaguely aware of my arms and legs being moved, followed by the snap and clicks of the handcuffs as they closed around my wrists and ankles. Shit.

When I came to, God knows how much later, I was on my stomach, handcuffed to the corners of my bed, blindfolded and duct tape over my mouth. I struggled to get a feel for how much leeway I had. Not much. Not enough. So there I lay, with nothing happening. I knew they were there, standing around my bed. I could feel their presence, just standing there. Standing there doing nothing. I _actually_ had the thought that they just needed to get on with whatever was going to happen because I was tired and wanted to go back to sleep. I blame that idiotic thought on exhaustion.

They had to know I was awake but they didn't move, didn't speak. I have to say it was really unnerving; and I really _didn't_ want them _to_ do anything but… _Thwack…_ something slammed down on my lower back. I cried out into my duct tape and pulled against the cuffs. I'm not sure if it was pain so much as being startled. Shit. I guess I'm not getting any more sleep tonight then, huh? I knew that my inner sarcastic dialogue was a defense mechanism. I was scared shitless. I had no control of what was happening or what the outcome would be. I couldn't see, couldn't talk, couldn't move. I was reduced to putty on a bed that they could do with whatever they wanted. So I laid there and again there was nothing. I could feel my apprehension building, waiting, waiting for it to come and then somehow, it would come… _Thwack…_ my left thigh and again I would cry out, startled by the pain yes, but the surprise of it - even though I knew it would inevitably come. This continued, for I'm not sure how long. I don't think there was an inch on the back of my body that wasn't hit. They avoided my head and neck. I guess they didn't want to knock me out or kill me, which was unfortunate because I was in a tremendous amount of pain, which I guess was the purpose. Hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to break bones. I used the down time between hits, sometimes a couple of seconds, sometimes maybe a minute, to figure out who they might be, what in the hell they were hitting me with and why they were hitting me. They didn't seem to want information-they weren't asking any questions. So I guess they just wanted to beat me senseless.

I know I'm still keeping it light here, but the truth is I am freaking out. I can't get away from the strikes. I am basically spread eagle on my bed. I only have enough room to writhe against the bloody cuffs in pain. And as much as I would like to remain still since my wrists and ankles were being torn to shreds, I couldn't.

The tears from pain and frustration came when they started going over my body for the second time. I was begging into the duct tape before I finally passed out.

I have a hazy awareness of the cuffs being unhooked from the bed and gentle hands moving my arms and legs…I sigh in relief, with hope… _Erin?…_ No. Not Erin. They flipped me on to my back and start the whole process again.

 **Main Bad Guy Asshole POV**

I slipped the door open and stepped inside, pausing to let the stillness of the room return before we moved the rest of the way into the apartment. When the 5 of us were inside and the door was again shut and locked, we paused before moving. Everything in the target's apartment was visible with the night vision goggles we all wore. The living space was clear so we moved on to the bedroom slowly and silently. We paused again when we entered, again letting the stillness of the room return, while being on the ready if the target did wake up. We then moved to the foot of the bed. The dossier we received was accurate: 5'9-5'11, 170 - 180 lbs. lean and wiry. The dossier stated that we were not to underestimate the strength or character of the target. He was an Army Ranger. A dangerous one. The target was sleeping on his stomach, head turned to the side. He was wearing only shorts. It was then that he stirred. We didn't react but stayed still as he lifted his head slightly for a moment only to drop it back down never once opening his eyes. All eyes were on me as we took our paces around the bed. With a nod everyone simultaneously played out their roles with precision: 11 o'clock pushed his face into pillow, knee on back, hold left arm. 1 o'clock held right arm with knee, both hands on upper back. 5 and 7 o'clock each held a leg. Knee on leg, both hands on ankles. With swift efficiency the target was subdued as I moved around the bed and plunged the syringe into his neck.

While the Target was drugged, his wrists and ankles were handcuffed to the corners of the bed. Duct tape and blindfold placed. Then we waited for him to wake up before we began part two of our mission. I again moved to the foot of the bed as the others move closer together with the leather saps that were hanging from their belts now in their hands.

I watch as the Target wakes up, tests his bonds and lifts his head, turning to each side, sensing our presence. I raise my hand to the men. Hold. The Target stills. Waiting. Anticipating. 5 O'clock is watching me, knowing he will have the first strike; followed by 7 O'clock. I nod my head. _Whack._ The Target cries out and pulls on the cuffs that are cutting into his skin and will soon be bloody from his struggle. We wait. I nod to 7 O'clock. _Whack._ Again the Target cries out. And so, it begins. I allow myself a half smile. I am a professional but I like my job.

 **THE BULLPEN**

Voight is in front of his office with his "don't fuck with me" stance, feet apart, hands in pockets, head thrust forward like a bull. We all sit at our desks trying not to choke on the tension in the room. I send one last text to my partner/boyfriend, Jay, "WAKE UP!" Then, "Hey, just so you know, Voight's gunna kill you."

"Well?" He growls at Ruzek as he comes up the stairs two at a time.

"Platt hasn't heard from him and Mouse is at Fort McCoy in Wisconsin, some army thing."

"Al, Erin, get over there and drag his ass out of bed and remind him he's not Sleeping Beauty. The rest of you hit the paperwork. No one leaves today until it's finished."

Ruzek in typical "let me try to cut the tension by sticking my foot in my mouth" form, says, "We all know Al is the only one here pretty enough to be Sleeping Beauty."

Which invokes a raised eyebrow from Erin, a death glare from Voight and a quiet, "Thanks for noticing" from Al.

 **Al's POV**

Erin has stopped grumbling about her partner long enough to pound on his door and then use her key to open it, not even waiting for an answer.

"Jay, Jay!" She yells going into the kitchen. I follow the trail of shoes and other belongings into the bedroom.

"Shit! Erin, call an ambulance."

She runs to my side, NOT calling an ambulance as we both enter Jay's bedroom.

"Oh, kid." I whisper. "Erin! Call an ambulance."

Erin finally calls while we both move to the bed.

"Jay." I say as I lean down to the bed and take his pulse. Some relief…"He's alive… Aw, shit, kid." That's all I can say as I take in his still figure on the bed. If I had only looked at his face, I would think he was asleep. Peacefully asleep. When I look at the rest of him all thought leaves my mind except "What did they do to you."

He's laying flat on his back. Head rolled to the side. He's only wearing a pair of basketball shorts. A piece of duct tape and what I am assuming, a blindfold on the far corner of the bed. His wrists and ankles, bloody and cut up, I assume from struggling, are handcuffed to the corners of the bed, pulling him spread eagle. From the neck down he is covered from welts, most already turning to bruises. I can't fathom the amount of hate? that went into this abuse. I can't believe he's alive.

Erin and I both move to the ends of the bed to uncuff him. Both of us talking to him in hushed voices so he knows we're here. As soon as I get his right arm uncuffed and start to slowly bring it down to his side, he starts to shake his head side to side mumbling, "no, no no." Breaking my heart all the while fanning the flames of my anger as he tries to move away from me and curl into himself.

The paramedics from 51 arrive. Both try not to react when seeing their friend, cuffed to a bed, delirious with pain and fear. We keep murmuring to him, assuring him it's okay, that he's safe, as we finish uncuffing him. Gaby and Brett try to get his vitals and an IV into him as he continues his weak struggle against our helping hands. They eventually have to sedate him so they can continue their workup and get him ready for transport.

Erin has quiet tears streaming down her face as he struggles. Hating, as much as I do, having to hold him down when it is only adding to his fear and pain…Once the sedative take hold and they get a line in him, we move to get him on to the backboard. As we roll him to slide the board under, Gaby gasps "Oh fuck!" I lean over Jay to see. A rage boils up in me as I close my eyes and take a breath… "They flipped him."

Erin rides in the ambulance to Med with me following them. I call Voight. "Get crime scene to Jay's apartment and meet us at Med." I hang up not waiting for a response from Voight. I can't talk right now. I'm torn between wanting to cry and wanting to kill someone. Hopefully the 10 minutes I spend in the car alone will return me to some semblance of sanity.

 **Erin's POV**

By the time Al parks and gets into the ED, they have Jay in a med bay. Jay's brother Will, has been relegated to a corner, hands clasped on top of his head and strung as tight as an arrow. He knows he has to stand back and can't treat his own brother, and it's killing him.

All I know, is that somewhere along the line Jay went into shock and that's what they are trying to get a hold of it before he goes into cardiac arrest. Al has joined me at the door and explains to them what he knows, which isn't much, in fact, it's not anymore than they already know just by looking at him.

I am doing my best to stay calm and just take in what is happening without crying. Once I start crying all bets are off and I won't be able to stop. I also won't have a clear enough head to try and understand what is going on. So I stand there watching my unconscious boyfriend, who's had the shit beat out of him, be poked and prodded and stuck with needles. They are speaking a language I don't understand and I can't follow what's going on. I don't know why doctors have to speak doctor, when there are regular humans, on the verge of a panic attack, around.

They finally get him stabilized enough to take him for x-rays and a CT scan. Voight and the rest of the team arrive just as they are ready to move him and freeze as they take in what they can see of Jay's body, the cut up wrists, the bruises covering his chest, shoulder and arms and the one leg that is partially showing.

They wheel Jay away with Will trailing behind as the rest of us just stand there. Adam break the silence with a very appropriate "What the fuck?"

They all look to Al and I for an explanation. Before we can start, Connor stops and fills us in with as much as he knows at this point. Nothing. Except Jay is stable, he is still sedated and they are taking him for tests. Hey, thanks for that!

Al fills in the rest of the team on how we found Jay. I continue to stare down the hallway after Jay. Al must have gotten to the part about them flipping him and that his back looks the same as his front because my mind is brought back to the group when Voight slams his fist through the wall. He looks at the hole in the wall for a second and then storms out of the building. Al sighs his quiet sigh and calmly goes after him. The rest of us stand there like statues until Kevin grabs my elbow and leads me gently to the waiting room, saying to me pretty much what Al and I were saying to Jay when we found him. The rest of the team breaks up then. Adam sits on my other side and Antonio looks at the whole in the wall left by Voight. Looking very much like he would like to add a couple himself. Finally, he pulls out his phone, 5'll get ya 10 he's calling his CI's.

I can't sit there any longer, I need to escape. I look at Adam and say, "Call Platt. Tell her what happened and that we need Roman and Burgess." Then I walk to the bathroom and finally let myself feel everything I had been keeping down.

It's almost 2 hours before Will enters the waiting room to fill us in. By then we had all come back together, stewing in our combined quiet rage. The few "outsiders" that had come in to await their own news of a loved one, quickly left. I'm sure they could feel the rage swirling around us and it probably didn't help that Voight glared anyone out of the room who dared cross the threshold.

When Will comes in, he gives us a simple, "He's okay." and drops into a chair at the table as we all join him. He looks like he's aged ten years. He rubs his eyes, takes a breath and fills us in.

"He's stable. No broken bones, no internal bleeding. There were no significant blows to the head." We all breath our various sighs of relief but before we can ask any questions he continues with a definite edge to his voice. "He has contusions of over 80% of his body. From what we can tell, he was beaten, slowly and methodically for approximately 4-6 hours based on the coloring and depth of the bruising."

"Christ…" is all Antonio can get out before Will interrupts him.

He looking pointedly at us, almost accusatory. "Who would do this? What kind of a person would do this to another human being?" It's not that he blames us but blames the job and all the danger that comes with it. He expects answers from us. Answers we don't have.

We are all too shocked to answer. I'm asking the same thing. Who and why would someone do this to Jay.

Voight, his fists in his shoved deep in his pockets, since the only things close enough to hit are members of his team, growls, "So he will be okay?"

"Yes. For now we've got him in ICU as a precaution. We're keeping him heavily sedated for the next 12 hours to 24 hours to give his body a chance to recover from the shock. We'll monitor him closely and depending on how he does, we'll move him to a private room then. So for now, it's just a matter of hurry up and wait."

"Burgess and Roman are on the way. We don't know who did this and until we find out, I want someone on his room at all times."

"Thanks, Voight. I understand and thank you. You guys can go up whenever you are ready. Just check in with the nurse."

 **MAIN BAD GUY ASSHOLE POV**

I can look and play the part of a doctor as easily as any other part I have played in my job. Therefore, I easily slip into the target's hospital room. I will be here for less than a minute. I lean over and flip up his eyelids, one after another with my gloved fingers, feigning interest at what I see there. I check vitals and the numbers on the beeping heart monitor. 'All looks as well as can be expected with this patient' I think to myself, chuckling in appreciation of my sense of humor and my handiwork.I fix the sheet covering my patient, pulling it down from his chest to just above his hips. He looks peaceful. I push down on one of the darker bruises. Not a trace of discomfort registers on the face of the target and the heart monitor remains steady, a sign of deep sedation. With a final look at the heart monitor, I place my thumb at the bottom of the target's sternum and spread my hand at an angle over his abdomen. At the tip of my little finger is where I push the sharpened metal dowel through his body until it reaches the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Al's POV**

Voight, Erin and I are silent in the elevator on the way up to Jay's room. Each of us stewing in our own thoughts. Voight had sent Antonio to contact Jay's CI's to find out what the word on the street was about a hit, if you could call it that, on Jay. Ruzek and Atwater were going through Jay's busts and getting a grudge list together. What happened to Jay was so twisted though, I don't know if grudge is a big enough word.

The ding of the elevator startles us out of our thoughts as we head out to see Jay. As we go through the doors of the ICU, we're greeted by a frenzy of doctors and nurses as they rush to a room in the far corner. Another nurse is putting through a code over the hospital intercom requesting security.

Erin and Voight rush to the room, fearing what they'll find, while I quietly intimidate a nurse for information. I hold up my badge, "I need to know what happened in that room." Before the nurse can answer, April steps in and waves the nurse away, leading me over to where Erin and Voight are standing. "We had just brought him up. He was heavily sedated and stable. We got him settled and not 5 minutes later his monitors started going off. His nurse went to check him and she found he had been stabbed in his abdomen with some kind of metal bar."

I'm trying to wrap my head around this new, fucked up information when Rhodes and his team roll Jay out of his room and are stopped immediately by Voight.

"Voight… We're taking him down to surgery. For now he's stable. The bar he was stabbed with is pushed all the way through and down into the bed. He's lost a lot of blood but barring any complications, this shouldn't set him back too much. It appears the bar missed anything important."

"Except his body." Erin chimes in, a statement everyone else chooses to ignore, for their own safety.

"We're going with you and posting someone outside the operating room. I only want people you know in that room. This guy's smart. He made a pass at Jay in the 5 minute window before we had protection on the room."

"I understand Voight. Whatever you need. Jay's family and we'll do what ever is needed to keep him safe."

 **Three Days Later**

 **RUZEK'S POV**

Jay's been out of the hospital 2 minutes and you can tell he already wants to kill us. I don't really blame him. He fought with us to come home early and finally won when we realized he could be better protected in his own apartment. Actually _we_ didn't realize, Jay pretty much shoved it in our faces; ' _wouldn't it make it easier for you guys to_ ** _protect_** _me if I wasn't in a place with so many moving parts._ ' He had a point, so, score one for Jay.

His pissed-off-ed-ness at us, for the record, started in the hospital when it was pointed out to us, by Jay, that he was sick of us ' _breathing his oxygen'_ and _'didn't we have better things to do than LOOM over him 24 hours a day.'_ Now there, I would have to say he was wrong. He had been tortured and stabbed just a couple of days ago. The perps hadn't been found, hell we didn't even have a lead and I'll be damned if any of us were going to let them get to Jay again. Score one for Intelligence.

I also know he is in a lot of pain. Every bump in the road on the way home brought a wince or a sharp intake of breath from him, rendering him paler by the second. He didn't help matters by walking stubbornly to the steps leading to his third floor apartment instead of the elevator. I don't know what he was trying to prove but he gave up on the second floor and we took the elevator up the rest of the way. I think anyone but Jay would be passed out on the floor by now. The fact that he hasn't done a face plant doesn't really surprise me though. This is Jay after all.

All this time, I couldn't help stealing glances at Jay as every second there was more and more pain etched into his face. When we got inside the apartment, he stopped to look at some untouched mail on the small table by the door, which I know was just him taking a breather before he walked the rest of the way into his apartment. Al gave him a break on that one though, telling him to stay there while he checked out the rest of the apartment. When he gave the all clear, Jay headed to the bedroom while I grabbed a couple of beers and joined Al on the couch to settle in for guard duty.

"Those better not be my last two beers!" If it wouldn't have taken him another minute to make it to the bedroom after saying that or if I couldn't hear the pain in the tone of his voice, it might have seemed like a normal Saturday afternoon with Jay busting our balls but it wasn't, so score one for the bad guys.

We heard the shower come on about 5 minutes later and relaxed a little into the couch with our beers and the game. I sat there stewing, lost in my own thoughts on the case and how fucked up it was. I was worried about my friend. Worried but not just because he is pain. I could't put my finger on it but I know he wasn't having a normal reaction to what happened. He was too stoic. Too matter of fact about the whole situation. He was taking it like he takes getting a black eye from a perp. No big deal. Which makes me think, no, makes me _fear_ , that he's been through this before. I was startled out of that horrible thought by a yell and a thud from the bathroom.

Al was off the couch faster then me. I got to the bathroom to see Jay on his knees, bent over with his head resting between his forearms on the floor. Al got down on his knees next to Jay and spoke quietly, putting a hand gently on Jay's lower back; "Hey, hey kid…you okay?" Jay's reaction was instantaneous and desperate; "No! Just…no," he croaked, "don't touch me." Al and I looked at each other and waited, giving Jay the time he needed.

Finally, he spoke quietly but didn't move. "The water…the water was fine and then suddenly it was scalding. I moved…too fast…couldn't…I couldn't catch myself." The last part was spoken with with a sigh and I think, embarrassment. I would have felt the same way. I could see the redness, now that he had mentioned it, going all the way down his back and the left side of him from his shoulder to his thigh. It was an ugly mix of colors with the almost black bruises that were already there.

Finally he's able to sit up, grabbing a towel from the rack and loosely wrapping it around his waist. He closes his eyes and with a wince puts his hands on his bruised thighs, keeping himself upright. "Jesus Jay, what the fuck." Al looks back to Jay with my exclamation,

grabs wash cloth and holds it against Jay's head.

Exasperated Al says, "You didn't think you should tell us you hit your head?"

"I thought you would figure it out soon enough when I sat up. You are detectives after all."

Scowling, Al crouches down in front of Jay, "Hold still."

He moves the towel to reveal a nasty gash on Jay's forehead, above his right eye.

"Well kid, I think you're going to need some stitches and it looks like you're going to be adding a new bruise to your collection."

I snap out of my stupor, "I'll go call Will."

Resigned Jay sighs, "Great, just what this who scenario needs, a mother hen."

It had taken awhile to get Jay off the floor and dressed in a pair of loose basketball shorts. That was pretty much all he could take of anything touching his battered body. As much as he tried to hide it from us, he looked like he was a breath away from passing out. While they made their to the bed, I went and retrieved Jay's pain meds and a glass of water. Al had started putting new bandages on his wrists and ankles when I got back to the room. It was hard to stand there and see Jay in so much obvious pain. My mind drifted back to the thought of someone who normally wouldn't let the pain show on his face and the fact that we were witnessing it at all was a testament to how much pain he was in.

After I gave Jay his meds, Al and I stood there watching him take slow measured breaths, breathing through the pain, until they kicked in. Frankly, it was hard to leave. I wanted to do something, anything, to make him feel better or at least to get him to keep gracing us with his biting sarcasm so _I_ could feel better but I knew that was only going to come with time - time for those bruises to heal. His mental state was another thing. Even with that brief glimpse of the "old" sarcastic Jay, I knew something wasn't right there but didn't know what.

Finally, after receiving a dirty look from Jay, since we kept standing there watching him like a couple of stalkers, Al and I made our way back to the couch and our beers. We sat there in silence, not tasting our beer and not registering what was going on with the game as we waited for Dr. Mother Hen. My own wit doesn't lighten the gloom in my head. The silence is heavy. "This is so fucked up." Al just looks at me. We both know that's an understatement.

* * *

Sorry for the delay on this and if it sucks! hehehe. I had the opposite of writers block - I had so much stuff that I was writing for this chapter and subsequent chapters, that my head was going to explode. I finally just had to put out the second chapter and go back in flashbacks or something. My head still feels like it is going to explode! Hehehehe. I guess that can be a good thing though...more to come. I hope it won't take too long for the next update! It's Wednesday and Chicago PD is on today so my heart is all a flutter...okiloveyoubyebye


	3. Chapter 3

**Al's POV - LATER**

We are all sitting in Jay's living room. And by all, I mean _all_. Slowly and steadily the rest of the team has arrived, along with Burgess and Roman. Mouse being the last to arrive, carrying whatever equipment he could bring that he didn't have to tear out of the walls. Jay's apartment has become our temporary bullpen but with, as my knucklehead partner was quick to point out, _beer and a 60" TV and better snacks to go with our bad coffee."_ It is definitely not protocol for all of us to be out of the office for this long, but we have Platt covering for us. We have set up a "second staging area." Platt is our go between if anyone from the Ivory Tower comes by. It is kind of true. It _is_ a second staging area, we just aren't using the first one right now. All of us are here, so all of us can work on the case. It feels better than being split up with some of us guarding Jay and some of us actively working the case in pursuit of the assholes that did this to him. We are all so internally freaked out, for lack of a better word, that we even have the bedroom door open, not wanting to be cut off completely while Jay's sleeps.

My eyes keep drifting back to Jay's file spread out haphazardly on the coffee table. It includes the crime scene photos of the very apartment we are sitting in and pictures of Jay's injuries. Some pictures are from when he was unconscious. The ones when he is conscious we can see his face. Those contain a mixture of emotions; fear, anger and annoyance are all visible from shot to shot. In our discussion of the "case," various reports are viewed and put back on the table when they are no longer needed in that part of the discussion. They are always "accidentally/on purpose" placed over the pictures of our battered friend.

We've all just reached an agreement that this doesn't look like it was carried out by your "everyday" thugs, i.e. Bembenek and his cronies. This was something else. It was looking more and more like this had nothing to do with a Chicago grudge, even though it hadn't been completely ruled out. This crew wasn't a "leg breakers" or straight up assassination crew. There was too much of an edge. Something above professional - whatever that was. We were just splitting up assignments when Will came in.

To be honest, I'm surprised it's taken Will this long to come over. He smothered Jay like a wet blanket from the second Jay was brought in to the ED to the second Jay left the hospital. I can't really blame him. I'd do the same if it was my brother…hell, who am I kidding, Jay's hospital room was a revolving door of wet blankets, all willing to smother Jay with our worry while we protected him from another attack. When he wasn't knocked out from the pain meds, Jay spent his time in the hospital glaring daggers at us. We did kind of deserve his death stares but we didn't care. He was going to stay safe and we didn't really care how he felt about it. Plus, it was pretty entertaining to watch the stare downs between the kid and Hank.

 **WILL'S POV**

To say I was taken aback by the crowd in Jay's living room is a huge understatement. When Adam called me about Jay's fall in the shower, it was just him and Al watching Jay. They said they stay there until I was able to get my shift covered and in that time, it appears Intelligence has invaded.

"Hey guys, what's up? The bullpen getting fumigated?" As much as I was worried about Jay, I had been putting on a brave face. _Brave_ , ha, just a word you might use for 'denying reality.' Hence, my lame attempt at humor.

"We all want to work the case and we all want to cover Jay, so here we are." Leave it to Erin to state the obvious, that truthfully, I should have seen given the temperament and loyalty of this team.

I nod, "Thanks guys, really, thanks a lot. I mean it." There aren't enough words to express the amount gratitude I am feeling for these people and how much they care about my brother. I hope the gratitude is visible on my face.

"Jay's sleeping?"

"Ya. He's been out for a couple of hours, since he fell in the shower," Antonio states, "and we've been waking him up and checking on him like you said. All seems status quo."

"Alright, I'll check him." Erin pops up from her spot on the couch and goes with me.

Jay is lying his back, uncovered. One arm is laying by his side, slightly away from his body, while his other hand lays on his stomach. His left leg is slightly bent. I can see the bandages around his ankles and wrists, a blinding contrast to the dark bruises that cover him. I freeze when I get close enough to fully see him in the darkened room. I had him seen his injuries briefly in the hospital when he first came in but since then his bruises have all "bloomed," and any areas directly over a bone, his, collar bone, hip, knee are almost black. It brings tears to my eyes to see him this way.

I move closer and can see the bruise from his fall starting to form around the cut above his eye. The cut doesn't look too bad. It won't need stitches, maybe just a couple of steri strips for good measure. I hate the fact that I have to wake him up for a concussion check but it's necessary. Before I can even open my mouth, he says, without moving or opening his eyes, "Tuesday, my apartment, detective, you're my annoying brother."

Erin guffaws behind me.

Leave it to my brother to try and lighten the mood to make _us_ feel better.

I continue my interrogation even though I can see the pain etched on his face now that he is fully awake.

"Okay, smart ass, if you do have a concussion it is a mild one. How are you feeling?"

"Fine…considering."

"When did you last have your pain meds?

"I don't know. Right after I fell I think."

Erin pipes up. "Couple hours."

"I'll check with Al to be sure. What's your pain level?"

"Q."

"Between 1 and 10 idiot."

He remains silent. I decide not to push for an answer. Obviously his attempt at a joke meant the pain is off chart but he didn't want to admit it.

"Okay, I'll check with Al. Rest up. I'll be back in a sec."

Erin lingers and runs her hand lightly down his cheek. It's now that he opens his eyes and smiles at the woman he loves. There is a murmur of conversation before she kisses his forehead and follows me out of the room.

I head straight for the kitchen and a beer. I can see why most of the unit are drinking one. One beer won't impair their judgment or capacity to work the case but if any situation called for a beer, this is it. And it looks like Al is right…Jay isn't really sleeping, just like when he was in the hospital. Oh, he might drift off now and then but he doesn't let himself knock out and really sleep…he just closes his eyes. Mouse had explained in the hospital, when I kept pushing for the heavier pain narcotics and Jay was about to blow a gasket, that Jay's dozing was the way they slept in Afghanistan most of the time, always alert, always ready. Which didn't ease my mind at all, hell, if anything it made me worry more.

I lean on the island in the kitchen and listen to them work out a game plan. When there's a lull, I chime in, "Hey Al, sorry for interrupting, but when did Jay take the pain meds?" Ruzek looks at his phone, "2 1/2 hours ago."

That puts me back in my head doing the math. He's at least 3 1/2 hours from his next dose. Fuck. It's practically impossible for a person to stay ahead of their pain with these particular meds but the stubborn ass still won't take anything stronger. Without him even telling me, I know it's because he doesn't want to be totally incapacitated by heavy narcotics. I understand his reasoning but it just makes it harder for a body to focus on healing when it's fighting the pain and falling asleep to boot. All of this makes me antsy and harder to just stand here doing nothing, so I make towards the bedroom to check on Jay again.

Al steps in front of me before I reach the door and puts a gentle hand on my shoulder,

"Hey, hey, hey Will…he doesn't have a concussion right? The burns are ok?" I don't say anything, wondering where he is going with this. "Let's just leave him alone for now." Seeing the look on my face he continues, 'I know he's your brother and you're worried. But he's fine," he amends that statement, "or as fine as he can be." I can only stare at him, pissed but starting to understand what he's saying, so I nod. "We're going to be covering him like a blanket until we catch this guy and we can't protect him if he kills us for driving him nuts." He gives me that 'Al shrug with the raised eyebrow.' I scoff, knowing he's right and tell him so. "Hang here with us while we work and go take a nap - I know your tired. We'll get you if anything happens."

 **LATER**

 **ANTONIO POV**

We work the case, make our calls, look at the reports and get nowhere. We are all getting frustrated and it's coming out in the sniping we've been doing to each other. We're interrupted from our angst by Ruzek, who's been stalking the living room like a hungry panther.

"Fuck! Fuck! Just, fuckin fuck, ya know. This is ridiculous. How can nothing be panning out? He wasn't attacked by a fucking poltergeist! There's gotta be something." He looks at us and seems to come to his senses, realizing he said all of that out loud. At any other time the look on his face would be comical. The kind of expression you would put on social media and embarrass the hell out of him…but I feel the same way, we all do, hence the copious amounts of frustration.

Adam sits back down in a huff and we all go back to work, thinking he is done with his outburst.

"It's not right." He says quietly, almost to himself.

Burgess puts a hand on his arm, "Of course it's not right. We'll get there. It's just taking longer than we all hoped."

He looks at her, "Not the case. I mean the case isn't right either but that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about Jay." Adam looks at all of us, waiting for us to agree but we just sit there waiting for him to explain. "His reaction. It's off. I mean, ya he's in pain and it's weird we can see that but a person can't hide _that much_ pain, even Jay. And he's still sarcastic but it's off. He's not there. He's pretending, for us, maybe so we won't worry so much. Anyone would be freaked out if this happened to them sure. They would be afraid or whatever. And maybe Jay is afraid but he sure as hell isn't going to show _that_. But there is something else there and it's driving me nuts." We all just sit there taking in his words, before he states the obvious, "I'm just worried about him."

"Ya, me too. Worried, I mean and the other...I thought it was just my imagination." Kevin agrees.

Will comes in then from the spare bedroom and stops like he ran into a wall. You could cut our silence with a knife and he's walked into it. His look turns from one of confusion, to one of worry.

Sitting down, he asks, "What's going on? Did you find something?"

We're all still silent so Voight speaks up. "We haven't found anything yet. There is just some frustration from the lack of movement. We were just going to…"

"It's the way they did it." We all turn to look at Mouse.

He pauses before he continues, "When you're being tortured for information, it gives you some semblance of control. Every time they punched you, cut you, shocked you it was a small victory. It meant you didn't give them what they wanted." He takes a breath, "Then there's this torture - for nothing. They didn't want anything but for Jay to be in pain. And they were getting what they wanted. He held out on them, held out giving them their win, proof: not begging, not crying out-you know, not letting them know he was in pain, for as long as he could. That was the only control he had...but even that would end eventually."

None of us could speak. The tears that had been forming in Erin's eyes finally made their way down her cheeks. I felt like I was going to puke. I'm sure everyone else felt various degrees of both. Ruzek stormed out of the apartment, Kim at his heels, no doubt to comfort him. The rest of us were stunned. Al gave Will's knee a squeeze, offering comfort that would fall short.

Voight broke the silence, "Mouse...how do you know this?"

 _"_ _Go, go, go." They stormed the make shift Taliban outpost, instantly taking out the eight guards as well as the low level Taliban leader. Bowie, Jacks, and Randall set up a perimeter while, Doc and Stewart were with me. Jay was in the middle of the room, tied to a chair, head resting on his chest, unconscious. His boots and socks were gone, as well as his flack jacket and shirt. His bare feet were tied together and sitting in a pan filled with water, the taser beside it - a much more painful and effective level of torture, high level shock but not enough to electrocute, spread evenly through the whole body, not an isolated area. His chest was covered with dust, sweat and blood to go along with the cuts, burns and bruises. Doc is behind him, checking for a pulse. He gives me a nod and starts to untie his hands. I kneeled down in front of him, lifting his head off his chest. The left side of his face was covered with blood and bruises. A cut above his left eye was still bleeding and there was a cut on his cheek. "Lieutenant, hey, Jay? Jay." I tapped his cheek hoping to wake him up but not disturb the cut . He winces and then groans as Doc unties his arms and gently but painfully moves them to his sides "Jay…" After a moment he stirs, then opens one eye and gives me that shit eating grin, splitting the cut on his lip in the process. "Heyyy Mouse…" he mumbles, his tongue touches his split lip, "cuttin it a bit close there…" his smile falters a little and he closes his eyes sleepily. He takes a deep breath and then he opens his eye again, and the grin is back, "I was just about to give them your mama's phone number." Relieved, I laugh, "You're an asshole…come on, let's get you out of here."_

"Mouse ..." Voight repeats.

He sighs, "I know Jay...and I was part of the rescue the last time."


	4. Chapter 4

**ANTONIO POV**

Will looks like he's going to throw up, tears threatening to fall. The pager on his hip buzzes and he almost looks relieved that he's being called back to the hospital. He gives us a stiff nod and practically sprints for the door but doesn't quite make it before something like a sob escapes his lips and the door swings closed.

It takes me a second, but then I realize what Mouse said, 'the last time' as in, not the first time and not this time. Jay's been through this before. More than once. With an angry grunt escaping my lips, I scrub my hands over my face, then roughly through my hair, wanting to pull it all out, before clasping them on top of my head. I lean back and look at the ceiling. I want to cry. Cry for my friend and what he went through protecting our country. I take a breath to calm myself the fuck down. Eventually, I blow out some angry air and drop my head back down to look at the group and I'm slapped with reality, Jay is standing in the doorway.

The team must have noticed my reaction because almost on cue everyone turns around and looks at Jay. No one says anything. We just look at him as he calmly takes in the room. "Jay…" Erin starts, but he just turns around and goes back into the bedroom. She gets up to go after him but Mouse stops her. "Hey Erin…" He doesn't continue, just a silent communication between the two of them before he gets up and follows Jay into the room.

We're all left to just look at each other. I think we're trying to process what Mouse said and trying to come to grips with how Jay looked. We knew how badly he was beaten but taking in everything at once was beyond startling. He had stood there, wearing just the basketball shorts. All of the bruising was visible, most are darker than would seem possible, especially the bruises on his hip, ribs and collar bone. How was he even standing?

It made me realize, how much pain he must be hiding from us and that thought, again, brought tears to my eyes which I promptly rub away. The white bandages on his wrists, ankles and abdomen, although a little bloody, were a sharp contrast to the bruises on his body. All of this taking me back to how Al and Erin found him, unconscious, tied spread eagle on his bed. The sadness and worry I felt for Jay was slowly being replaced with a boiling rage at his attackers.

 **MOUSE POV**

Jay is lying on the bed with his arm over his eyes. I just stand there and then sit at the foot of the bed. "I'm sorry Jay." Jay doesn't respond at first. I'm getting uncomfortable and then Jay finally does speak but doesn't uncover his eyes. "It's ok Mouse." He's quiet for a while. I know he is going to say something else so I stay quiet and wait. Finally when he does speak, the words fluctuate between sadness and anger.

"You were right. In fact you hit the nail on the head. This…this was so different than what I've experienced before, I don't know how to process it." He stops for a second, gathering his thoughts. I stay silent and wait. "When it was happening I was mostly thinking of the pain and getting through it but when I was in the hospital and had time to think, I started to freak out. I did feel powerless. I do feel powerless and I hate that feeling. The physical pain I can handle but I just don't know what to do with the rest. I'm not afraid of them coming at me again, I think we know that's a given. But I just don't want to feel that powerless when they do."

I get it. I get where he is coming from but this whole thing would scare the shit out of me. It is scaring the shit out of me. We all know this isn't over. We all know it doesn't make sense. We all know that there will be another attempt to fuck with Jay, hurt him or kill him. We just don't know when it's coming and if we can stop it before Jay ends up injured or dead.

 **Al POV**

I can hear Mouse and Jay talking. I know Jay isn't mad. He's just private. He lets his past out in drips and drabs, on his own terms and only when absolutely necessary. Talking brings everything to the surface, which I am sure this has. Erin looks like she wants to curl up in a ball and cry. She takes a few breaths and then sits on her shaking hands.

It's gone quiet in the bedroom and then Mouse comes out, "He's good." He takes his seat again, immediately getting lost in his computer, trying to shove any emotion down. He isn't successful though. Everything is written all over his face. He hasn't mastered the stoic mask that Jay has perfected.

Jay walks gingerly out of the bedroom a moment later. The kid looks like hell. He's still in his baggy shorts but struggling to put on a t-shirt, until he finally gives up and throws it on the back of the couch.

"So where are we?"

No one says anything. We all just sit there looking at him. He looks like he could fall down any minute. He confirms this by holding onto the back of the couch, even though he tried to look nonchalant about it.

"Your not helping Halstead, so go back to bed and rest."

He huffs, takes a deep breath and shakes his head to clear it before he slowly makes his way to the kitchen.

Adam looks somewhere between amazed and appalled, "Is he fucking kidding?"

"Of course he's not kidding." Antonio and Erin say at the same time.

"Guys…" No one heard Jay's quiet call until he repeated it.

"Guys…guys, guys! Something's wrong. Something…"

They all run to the kitchen but Al puts out an arm and stops them before they get there. Jay's hands are gripping the counter, his head dropped, hanging towards his chest as he rocks back and forth, eyes scrunched shut.

"Hey Kid, what's going on?"

He whispers, "I can't be here…why are they here?" and then puts his forehead on the counter between his hands mumbling 'why are they here' over and over.

Erin looks at me and steps forward.

"Jay, babe…"

Jay feels her move forward and jumps back further into the small kitchen, faced etched with pain with the movement as he grabs at the wound on his stomach. I look at Hank and he looks like I feel, confused.

Erin takes another small step forward but stops when Jay backs himself against the wall.

I try again, as quietly as I can so as not to spook him any more than he already is, "Jay, come on kid, tell me what's going on."

"How are you all here? Why are you here?" He is looking back and forth, terrified, body trembling, taking us all in but not seeing us. Shit.

"How is this happening? Jackson…" his voice cracks as he whispers, "you're dead I saw you die." He looks to the corner where no one is standing, in confusion. He takes his hand away from his stomach and looks at the blood that covers it.

"I couldn't keep it in. I couldn't keep the blood in and he died."

"Guys," Mouse speaks quietly from behind us, "he thinks he's in Kabul. Jackson got hit by a sniper. He was dead before we got to him. He's hallucinating."

Every jerky movement he makes is hurting him but how do we stop him without _really_ hurting him. I can hear Atwater in the background calling for an ambulance. Then Jay has a partial moment of clarity, followed by confusion when he recognizes Voight.

"Voight?"

Voight starts to answer him but Jay doesn't give him a chance.

"This is all wrong. This is all wrong…You were in Kabul?" His head tilts to the side in confusion, "Why didn't you tell me? Why are you here?" He looks again at a group of people that isn't us. "You're all dead…" He whispers, practically in tears now…looking pack and forth in panic… "I saw you die. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I wasn't in time." Atwater, Ruzek and Tony are standing back so Jay doesn't feel threatened. He's becoming more panicked by the second but we are still at a loss for what to do. The wound on his abdomen is starting to bleed freely, soaking through his bandage and dripping down his leg.

"WHY IS EVERYONE HERE!" he practically screams. None of us really know what to do but we stay back, for now, except for Erin, who is slowly moving forward, Mouse right behind her. We don't want to panic him any more than he is and hurt himself more.

"Jay, Lieutenant. Hey, it's me, Mouse. You're okay, we're okay. We're back in Chicago. In your apartment."

"Mouse…" He whispers. We can hear the sirens in the background. "Mouse, they're all dead. I'm sorry, I'M SORRY!…" he clutches his head with both hands. Erin and Mouse take another step closer. The tears start to fall as Jay shakes his head and looks back and forth at the people he fought with and lost in Afghanistan. "Mouse, we lost them, I lost them…"

"I know bud, I know. It's going to be okay."

Jay is quiet for a moment, eyes wide, staring at the people that have haunted his dreams for years. He's slightly bent over now clutching his side, when Erin becomes part of the hallucination.

"Erin?" His breath hitches, "Erin, you can't be here." His face crumbles, "YOU CAN'T BE HERE! Why are you here." He's crying now, "Mouse! They're all dead. Why is Erin here? They're dead. Why is she here?" He tries to gesture to the people he is seeing with his bloody hand while the other braces against the wall to help keep him on his feet. "Erin," he sobs, "why are you here…Er…" The anguish in his voice is heartbreaking. The kid thinks Erin is one of the dead that are currently haunting him. Erin reaches for him when he bends over clutching his wound in pain and then tries to straighten up again. He looks at Erin and lifts his bloody, trembling hand to her cheek then crumbles to the floor.

 **RUZEKS POV**

Holy fuck…that was the scariest thing I have ever seen and I hope somehow it is magically scrubbed from my memory. When Jay started to fall and Mouse and Erin caught him and lowered him to the ground, I thought he was dead. I had to cover my eyes so no one would see the few tears that had fallen but then I saw Kev and realized he thought the same thing.

When Brett and Dawson starting working on him, we had all backed away and gave them room to work. They had said he was okay, his heart was racing, understandably, but he was stable. When they asked what drugs he had taken, we were all at a loss for words. When they put soft restraints on him, I wanted to protest but Gabby says, sensing what all of us were feeling, "It's for his protection guys. He's going to be okay." We all watched as they pushed the gurney to the elevators, Erin by Jay's side. Voight just behind them. As soon as they were on the elevator, Voight came storming back, barking orders.

"Antonio call Will and tell him what happened and to meet us at med. Al, get Crime Scene down here. I want this area secure. DON'T touch anything. Jay didn't _just_ start hallucinating. They've done something. Glove up. Hopefully we'll get some fingerprints if they came back and did it between when Jay was brought to the hospital and when we got back.

"It has to be something he ingested. If it was something he touched one of us would probably also be hallucinating. But have them check everything, anything Jay might have touched, ate or drank. Meet us at the hospital when they get here and know what they are looking for."

Voight's phone rings. "Voight,…Erin, Erin…slow down…what happened…are you okay? Okay, hold tight. We're coming right now."

As the phone call had progressed we were getting more and more agitated.

Al looks at his friend, "What…"

"They were jumped when they were putting Jay in the ambulance." Antonio races out of the apartment, worried about his sister. Voight barks his finally orders before racing after Antonio, "Atwater, Mouse stay here, wait for crime scene. The rest of you with me."

A minute later we are busting out of Jay's apartment running to where Gabby and Erin are crouched over Brett as she lays unconscious in the street.

"They're all okay Brett's slowly coming around," Antonio says with obvious relief. '"There's another bus coming."

"What happened?"

"The assholes were waiting in the ambulance and knocked them all out. They have Jay."


	5. Chapter 5

LATER

Voight and Antonio stand over Maurice, his face starting to bruise as he lays on the ground, a long gun held by Antonio digging into the gangbanger's neck just below his adam's apple.

"Come on Voight, I told you everything I know. No one approached us. No one asked for my enforcers to get involved."

"I don't care about Darius and Michael. This didn't have their signature on it. I don't want any bullshit. You know what happens when people bullshit me. I want to know what you've REALLY heard on the street. I don't want any of this 'heard it was the Black Knights bullshit.'"

With that Antonio pushes just a little harder on the gun making Maurice's eyes bulge and throw his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, alright! Since you guys starting asking around more people have been talking about the 'pig who got his ass whupped.' He brings his hands up, "their words not mine."

"I'm waiting…" As if given a cue Antonio pushes harder with gun.

He rushes to get the words out, "Wait, wait, wait…Little John was in lockup last week and he heard a couple of guys talking about the same kind of weird ass beat down happening to some guy in DC."

Voight scoffs, "You expect me to believe that Little John relayed this 'accurate' information to you, when we both know he's got an IQ of about 12?"

"Man, you know Little John. He's dumber than a rock until it comes to violence, then he's practically a genius. I swear Voight, he was telling the truth. He's the one that brought it up. He was all excited, couldn't stop talking about it."

Voight takes all this information in, "Did he say who they beat up in DC? Or when it happened?"

"All he said was it was some military dude. I don't know when but couldn't have been too long ago."

Voight and Antonio look at each other. The gun is lifted from Maurice's throat and Voight leans down and gives him a couple of smacks on the cheek, "You keep your nose clean Maurice. Next time I won't be so nice."

They are almost back to the truck when Maurice calls them. "Keep an eye on your boy, Voight. That military guy, they killed him, went back and finished the job."

MAIN BAD GUY ASSHOLE

He watched as his men dragged the Target into the room and threw him, though almost gently, onto the cement floor and stepped back. He made his phone call while continuing to watch the unconscious man gracing his floor.

"Target is acquired. Let me know when you are ready to begin." Message left, he then dismissed his men. He wouldn't need them for a while. He continued to watch the Target as he started to set up the tools of his trade in anticipation of the final phase of this job.

LATER-THE BULLPEN

Everyone had gathered back in the bullpen. When Voight came in the first thing he did was grab Mouse and slam him against the wall.

"Hey, Voight…stop!

"What the hell Hank? What's going on? Stop it!"

Al was finally the one to get him to loosen up on Mouse but he still kept him pinned to the wall, in his face, questioning him like he was a criminal. "I want to know what you know. I want to know what you have been holding back from us? And I want to know NOW!"

"Hey Hank, ease up. What's going on? You know Mouse wouldn't hold back from us. He wouldn't do that and plus this…this is Jay…"

Hank was in a stare down with Mouse and Mouse wasn't backing down. He didn't know what this was about but he also knew he wasn't going to take any shit where Jay was concerned.

It was Antonio who spoke up, "We just got back from talking to one of Voight's CI's. Looks like this might have something to do with Jay's time in the military. Someone was killed in DC, military, same MO."

"Jay's not dead."

"Yet…"

"Jesus Christ, Ruzek…"

"I'm just saying…I meant, ah fuck it."

Atwater gave his shoulder a squeeze, he knew what he was feeling, fear, they had to hurry.

"Alright! Everyone shut up!" Hank released his grip on Mouse and even gave his chest a pat in apology. Then continued, "Mouse, we need to find out all you can about the DC case, it might be classified. We need a name. If we can get that we can go from there. See if he and Jay knew each other or were in someway connected."

Al, always the calm to Hank's storm spoke up, "Mouse, do you have any idea who would want to do this to Jay? Did anything happen while he was in the Rangers that would cause someone to go after Jay?"

Mouse just looked at them a bit dumfounded even though he knew that wasn't fair, "90% of what our team did in the Rangers would cause people to go after Jay…"

It was the rest of the team's turn to be dumfounded, except Al…he knew, even though he was the one to ask the question

"Mouse…"

"Look Erin, there's a lot I can't talk about but ya, after all we were the enemy, invading their country, trying to put a stop to terrorism. SEAL's, Rangers, any special forces would be the optimum target. I'll check into it again but from that angle. Jay lead a lot of missions that could have put him on any list if they figured out who he or any of us were." He prayed this wasn't the case, if so, Jay was as good as dead and it would be slow and painful.

LATER

It had been a quiet but stress filled couple of hours. Everyone was checking with CI's or looking at DC newspaper archives for any mention of the murder. _They_ wouldn't get anywhere. They just needed to be busy. They were all depending on Mouse.

"Fffffuuuck."

RUZEK POV

The breathless exclamation came from Mouse. We all looked at him in expectation but he ignored us and headed for Voight's office, shutting the door behind him. It wasn't lost on any of us that he looked physically ill. He had found something. It wasn't good.

We waited. Normally, I think we would have been pissing and moaning, speculating, and angry we weren't in on the conversation going on in Voight's office but I was just too busy freaking out. Five minutes later, when they came out, I finally found my voice, I think I spoke for all of us.

"What the hell man?"

Voight gave Mouse a nod, "Look, I'm sure you've all heard of Black Sweep…" This elicited a sigh and a quiet 'shit' from Al. Mouse acknowledges this, "Ya, them…They're a private mercenary/repo crew owned by Anthony Darnoldson. Most of the crew were American but there were a few members from Australia, the UK and France.

"They would go into villages or areas of the desert where equipment was lost or for the most part destroyed to see if they could salvage any of the machinery that the military had abandoned. They were there strictly for machinery. They were not to salvage any technology. That was to be recovered or destroyed by the ground troops, as in Army Rangers, as in Lt. Jay Halstead's Squad, which was one of many. When the technology was cleared, Black Sweep could go in. It was discovered that Black Sweep were going in before an area was cleared and taking the the technology for themselves and selling it to the highest bidder. They had unlimited funds and could often get there before us. They didn't have to wait for a mission to be green lit. They just went. Jay's squad was to take down Black Sweep, to arrest. But they were green lit to use deadly force if need be. Let's just say, Lt. Halstead was successful in his mission."

I can't help myself and blurt out, "So this is payback over money…"

"Not quite that simple. The guy that lead the Black Sweep Crew, Phillip Darnaldon was Anthony's younger brother. Jay brought the crew back to base and they were turned over to the MP's and that was the end of the mission. It stung a bit, to put it lightly, since they were basically traitors and were, at times, selling the info to terrorist cells as well as the Russians and the Chinese. You can't dwell on it though, mission over, on to the next one. We found out about four months later, after I had joined Jay's squad, that there wasn't a trial, they didn't end up at Leavenworth, they ended up in Guantanamo."

He let's us sit on that information and the implications of it before he continues, "Jay basically and unknowingly turned them over to be tortured by our own country."

"Shit."

"Ya, shit… Jay went ballistic when he realized that the men they had turned over were most likely being tortured to find out who they had given the information to. Jay was silently raging for days, questioning himself, could he have done something different. It's hard being a soldier in the times of terrorism. The politics of it, the thin line you walk doing what was right to protect your country and your brothers but at what cost to yourself. You know that innocent people are caught up in it and you know that you had to follow orders. It was what you did as a soldier. It was what you signed up for but sometimes those orders, even for the good of the country or the protection of its citizens put a taint on your soul. I'm not saying these guys are innocent by any means, or they didn't deserve what they got…hell, they were probably responsible for hundreds of deaths, soldiers and innocents alike and will probably be responsible for 100's if not 1000's more because of the technology they sold and what the enemy might do with it. But it's still painful when you're the person that is one step removed from their torture."

Al, "So, quid pro quo."

"Yup, quid pro quo. Phillip Daroldson died in Guantanamo. I'm 100% sure that Anthony Darnoldson this. Find him we find Jay."

"That's going to be difficult, Al quietly adds, "Darnoldson has been off the radar since this all went down. He got a slap on the wrist. They bought his story that the crew did this on their own without his knowledge."

Mouse adds, "There was speculation that he had friends in Congress protecting him."

I can't believe this, "So he basically threw his brother under the bus."

'Yup, he basically threw his brother under the bus…but that doesn't mean he didn't love his brother or that he wouldn't want payback."

"Okay, well shit! How do we find him then?"

MAIN BAD GUY ASSHOLE

He leaned over the Target, still unconscious, splayed out on the cement floor like a rag doll, wearing only basketball shorts, body trembling from the cold, his injuries in full view. He liked how the bruises over the bones were practically black, on this target more so than the others. He had kept himself in shape after leaving the Rangers, lean, all muscle. Admiring his handiwork he complimented himself on a job well done. Then laughed out loud at his inner monologue. He had to admit, he was a great conversationalist, with himself. Again, he chuckled, then went about removing the bloody bandage from the opened wound on the Target's abdomen, his handiwork from the hospital. He looked at the his face, young, peaceful. You would think he was sleeping. A couple of quick blows to the left side of his face, opening a cut on his eyebrow, fixed that. He watched as the cut slowly start to bleed. He didn't look like he was sleeping anymore.

He nodded to the four men in the corner and watched as they set about their tasks with precision. While one cut the bandages from the Target's bloody wrists and removed the bandage from the puncture wound on his back, another removed the bloody bandages from his ankles. Part one of their task completed, they moved on to task two. His ankles were cuffed together and his hands cuffed in front of him. Task three: A chain from the ceiling was attached to the handcuffs and he was lifted, head falling back, until he was hanging by his wrists, feet six inches off the ground. Once the men stepped back, he admired the body hanging in front of him and the artwork he had inflicted upon it. He pulled the Target's head forward, chin resting on chest, so he could take in the new bruises that were already forming and the blood running down is face. He was good at his job.

The Target had yet to stir, which made this part of the job that much more satisfying. It was one thing to inflict pain until unconsciousness, it was another to bring someone out of unconsciousness with pain. He sucked in a breath anticipation. Then he slowly stuck two fingers into the open wound on the Target's abdomen and watched as his face came alive with pain.


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry this is so late and short. One more Chapter after this.

It took me forever to do this. I messed around with it so much I finally just had to post this just to stop myself. Now I can focus on the last Chapter.

BEFORE

Jay in THE AMBULANCE hallucinating

MAIN BAD GUY ASSHOLE POV

The Target is still hallucinating. It is gratifying to see the affects of my drug concoction. It has taken years to perfect and I've never seen it work so well. The Target is in physical pain, yes, but the emotional pain, now that was something to behold. He struggles against his restraints with all that he has and this just adds more pain to the hallucination. He calls out for 'Erin' and doesn't understand how she can be dead. The tears roll down his face as he tosses his head from side to side trying to shake off the truth of her death. The people he has killed or has lost surround him as he begs for forgiveness. It comes to a point where we are forced to hold him down in addition to the restraints, and yet my men still struggle to control him as he still screams and sobs his sorrow and guilt. Beautiful.

LATER - THE TORTURE

The camera was set up, line open for live streaming, he addressed his Client, "Do you still have a clear view?"

"Affirmative…hold"

"Holding. Let me know when you are ready."

The Client sat back, lap top on his desk, and watched Lt. Jay Halstead try to breath through the pain he was in. The group he had hired to carry out his mission of revenge were good at their job. He had saved Halstead for last and hadn't felt the need to watch the others, just gave directions for a painful death, let the group do what they wanted and relished in the pictures provided when a job was completed. But Halstead was different. He needed to be a part of his death, although from a distance. He wouldn't get his hands dirty if there was someone else who could do it for him.

It was gratifying to watch the pain on Halstead's face. To take in his body, bruised and bloody. The wound on his abdomen was bleeding freely, although his wrists were starting to concern him - there was a lot of blood oozing from them and down his arms.

"His wrists…"

"No need to worry. He will lose blood but not enough to kill him."

Darnoldson nodded to himself…"More."

He gave his client what he wanted and basked in the jerk of the body and cries of pain pulled from the Target as he once again put the taser on his abdomen. Tasers where satisfying in two ways. One, the moment of contact inflicted a great amount of physical pain to the body and two, when it is removed, the body would continue to twitch and tremble as it's cells tried to recover. He found, over the years, that the correct way to use a taser was an endless cycle of pain, near recovery, then once again, pain - where, as soon as the body is almost recovered, to a point of stillness, tased again. This cycle is the best way to achieve the maximum amount of physical and psychological pain. The physical pain is what it is. The psychological comes as the body recovers to a point of relief - a psychological sigh, you might say, only to be startled into the throws of pain once again. I love my job.

Finally, "Enough. Let him rest, sit in the pain." He addressed the Target, "and then we'll start again."

Jay winced and caught his breath. Spitting out the blood that had been accumulating in his mouth he mumbled, "ya, I figure that."

JAY POV

I am not going to lie. I'm in a shitload of pain. There's this little part of me that would like to be a sarcastic ass to this guy, like in the movies. Except this isn't the movies and with my training and in this given situation, I opt for silence on the outside, sarcasm on the inside. Sarcasm was just a barometer for which they could judge your condition. I'll opt for silence…for as long as I can. Eventually the pain would force something from me but it wouldn't be sarcasm. Instead, I focused on the guy's ear, the one doing all the damage. It's weird. I've never paid this much attention to ears and this guy has weird ears.

I would love to say, "You have weird ears." Give him a complex. I might be dead but he would forever be self conscious about his ears, maybe even grow his hair out. Even-steven. This is really stupid, I know, but when I was learning how to be tortured, yes, that's a thing…you wanna be a Ranger, you get a taste of what it feels like to be tortured. One of the ways they taught us to get through it, was to focus on who was torturing you. Focus on their features, blemishes, imperfections. It helps separate you from the pain. I'm in a lot of pain and this guy's weird fucking ears are helping me through it - for now.

Oh, and for the record, I'm scared shitless. I don't want to die. I don't want to die here, in this way, but it feels inevitable. This crew is professional. They're good. This is the kind of crew that would deal with high value targets when I was in the Rangers overseas. As good as Intelligence is, I think this is beyond them.

But then again, they had Mouse.

LATER - The Rescue

RUZEK POV

I take out the fifth man that's coming up from the basement, gun in hand and don't give him a second thought as I step over his body and run down the steps, Kev right behind me.

"Jesus Christ…I've got him. We've got him. Basement."

Oh, fuck man. My thoughts race. They've got Jay strung up like a piece of meet. Cuts and taser burns litter his body, on top of the bruises that were already there. Chin to chest, he's not conscious. Blood is slowly running down his arms and sides from the hand cuffs. So much so, that it's dripping on the floor. Basketball shorts hanging low with the weight of the blood on them, most of it coming from his wrists. Fuck me. I can't even tell if he's a live, I can't see if he's breathing. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Come on Jay. Please, oh God, Jesus Christ! Come on Jay.

"He's alive. He's fucking alive. Kev, grab his legs, lift him up!"

"Jay, it's okay man. I got you."

"Fuck me." I take my handcuff key and get the cuffs unlocked but they don't come off. My hands are shaking as I reach for my coms, "I need a bolt cutter. Someone get me a fucking bolt cutter." Jesus Jay…the cuffs are imbedded in his skin and held there by the chain that is also wrapped tightly around his wrists.

I can hear people racing down the steps. Al and Voight burst in and immediately rush to help hold Jay up. All of us getting bloody in the process.

"Bolt cutter?"

"Erin's on it."

When Jay starts to stir, Al starts talking.

"Easy there, Jay. We got ya. We're gunna get you down."

Jay lifts his head and groans. "Al…" Then his head falls back and he's out. Erin comes running down the stairs, sliding down the last three and tosses the bolt cutter to Kevin. Seeing Jay, she stands there…frozen…in shock…she sounds like a little girl when she asks if he's dead and when Voight tells her he's alive, she finally moves toward her boyfriend.

Antonio has reached the bottom step and goes to Erin pulling her into a half hug but can't keep his eyes off of Jay. He was just going to ask if he was alive when suddenly Jay's body jerks and then goes stiff. He opens his eyes wide and starts to struggle for a second, mumbling in Arabic or something.

Al is talking softly, trying to get Jay to calm down, eventually getting through to him. "Shit…nnnngh." He groans through clenched teeth. God, he's in a lot of pain as he lets his head fall against his arm. He hasn't passed out though, just mumbling 'shit' over and over again as he pants through the pain.

We hold Jay up, Kev working on the chain and finally it's cut. His arms start to fall, eliciting a loud groan. Voight catches them before they can drop any lower as we lay Jay on the ground. Even though Al continues a steady stream of comforting words, Jay's barely conscious and not really with it. When he looks at us like he doesn't know us and starts mumbling in Arabic or Farsi, it kills me. It was making me physically ill to see him like this. Besides the current torture he has gone through, it has taken him back to his time in Afghanistan and the horror he went through there.

Antonio returns with the paramedics. I didn't even notice he had left. Voight has finally, although slowly, moved Jay's arms down. His shoulders aren't dislocated but the muscles protesting being in a new position after bearing his weight, for God knows how long. His hands are now resting against his stomach. Still cuffed together.

I was jolted out of my thoughts by the paramedic, I forget his name, "I can't take these cuffs off or the chains. They're going to have to do it in the ER."

"Loosely wrap them for now." Sylvie turns to us. "Guys, I hate to do this, but I need to get a line in him…he's not quite with it. I need you to be ready to hold him down just in case he fights."

It was the last thing any of us wanted to do but Al was leaning close, ever the calming voice, the voice of reason in our little family. If anyone could get through to Jay in a situation like this, Al could.

Al kept one hand on Jay's forehead, occasionally brushing his hair back, while putting the other on his shoulder, ready to hold him down. Never stopping his, hopefully, soothing monologue as he bent near Jay's ear. Kev gave one of his legs a light squeeze and gently held on. I put one of my hands just barely touching the other. I go to place a hand on his hip but didn't know how I could do it without hurting him. His shorts sit low on his hips from the weight of the blood on them and his hip was covered in bruises and taser burns. I opted to let my hand hover. I would hold him only if I needed to. Voight had the same idea.

"Jay, Jay?. Hi… it's Sylvie. I know your in pain and we're going to give you something for that in a little bit. For now I need to get an IV in you. You okay with that?"

"Er…"

"Right here, Babe…" She moved up closer to Sylvie where he could see her better.

"Let Sylvie put an IV in you. You're okay. We're all here."

"Okay…"

His eyes lose their focus but remained open and again he slips away to who knows where. Hopefully his mind was still in Chicago and not back in Afghanistan.

He jerks when the needle goes in, his eyes opening wide with fear and confusion but that was as much of a reaction as we got. He didn't have any fight left in him.

"You can't give him anything for the pain? He's miserable."

"I know. Sorry Adam. We just don't know what drugs they might have given him. We can't take that chance."

Fuck, that pissed me off. When we roll him onto the backboard he cries out in pain. We had to take a minute for him to breathe through it before we did anything else. I wished to God he would just pass out already. When we transfer him to the stretcher, his head was rolling back and forth with the pain, jaw clenched. When we lift it, he groans and tears slipped from the corner of his eyes. "God dammit Jay, pass out already." And by the time we start up the stairs he had passed out but first he had to shatter our hearts with an ear splitting scream from being jostled as we tilted the stretcher to make our way up the stairs.

Ok, one Chapter, hopefully, to go.

Reviews are always welcomed and appreciated. They really do inspire.

Thanks for reading!


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